All Is For The Best
by BigwigRocks
Summary: At the last moment Draco grabs hold of Harry and is taken to Shell Cottage too. Wandless and surrounded by Blood traitors and Mudbloods what is our favourite blonde Death Eater to do now? No Slash.
1. Prologue

**So my first story (and chapter), sorry it's so short but its more of a prologue than anything and i promise future chapters with be longer. Enjoy :D And (of course) I don't own Harry Potter.  
**

**All is for the best in the best of all possible worlds-Voltaire**

* * *

The chandelier had fallen and Draco's world had turned upside down. The glass was everywhere and he brought his hands up to cover his already bloodied head. Between the pain in his face and the burning in his arm Draco had hardly noticed Potter taking his wand. Except, the Dark Lord was coming, if Potter escaped...Fear triumphed over pain and Draco lunged at him. If nothing else he needed his wand. But Potter was spinning and then Draco was spinning, something silver flashed passed him and Draco realized what he had done.

Draco's knees sunk into the sand, his legs unable to support his weight. He couldn't see anything, couldn't get his eyes to work. Was he blind now? He could hear people around him moving and Potter was screaming for help. What did that mean? Which side surrounded him now?

Suddenly he heard a shrill voice shout "Stupefy" and then Draco heard no more.


	2. Chapter 1

When Draco woke up he could see again. His face had been wiped clean of blood and he realised it was the blood which had blinded him. He still didn't know where he was but it didn't look like a dungeon, he was in a tiny bedroom, the bed he was now sat on took up most of the space and the only other furniture was a small bedside cabinet and an empty chest of draws. He could hear the sound of the sea, one hand went automatically to his left pocket but it was still there, his dreamless sleep, and he almost shook with relief. He knew he had a problem but the _Dark Lord_ had been living in his house, he figured that was as good an excuse as any. Shakily he walked over to the window. Potter and the Weasel were outside digging a hole, no, a grave. So Dobby was dead then. Draco wasn't really sure how he was supposed to feel about that and, he belatedly realised, the room was a dungeon after all; they were all outside now, the Golden trio, Lovegood, Thomas, another Weasley and Fleur Delacour she would be a Weasley now, he knew the Death-eaters had gate crashed their wedding because he recalled his father laughing about it.

They were burying Dobby now and Draco felt a pang of emotion as he remembered how Dobby comforted him with pudding and stories when he had disappointed his father or his mother had ignored him again. But he was being stupid, that was years ago, and he was just a sodding house elf.

He laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, worry twisting in his stomach as he wondered what was to become of him. It didn't help that he had just witnessed what would have happened if situations were reversed and the other side had captured them instead. Granger's screams were still ringing in his ears and they would surely want revenge for that. Maybe Potter was too noble but he was pretty sure Weasley wasn't. There was a knock on his door and Draco got to his feet quickly, smoothing his hair and straightening his shirt. A tall man entered dressed scruffily with ginger hair and a fearsome collection of scars across his face. _You must be a Weasley _Draco winced imperceptibly, he was sure they wold make him regret all his previous insults.

"Hello, I'm Bill, you must be Draco," He said. Draco nodded, a small, stiff jerk of his head. "I've brought you some dinner" He set the tray down carefully on the end of the bed it contained a plate of chicken, chips and peas and a glass of water , "I'll come back for the it later,," He paused and then added a warning "for the next few days it's probably best if you just stay in here as much as possible, Ron is, understandably, very angry at the moment." He stood there awkwardly for a moment probably waiting for Draco to say something, then he left Draco alone to his food, and his thoughts.

Downstairs he could hear an argument was raging.

"Vat zee hell vere you zinking Bill, he can't stay ere."

Whatever Bill said in reply was too quiet for Draco to hear but Fleur's reply came though the walls loud and clear.

"He's a death eater!"

What little appetite Draco possessed had disappeared, the chicken in his mouth turned to cotton wool and he struggled to swallow it. He put his knife and fork together on the plate and, although it was still half full, carefully set the tray on the floor and lay back on the bed resuming his examination of the ceiling.

When Bill came back he made no comment about the half eaten food; just took the tray and left but Ron passed by him in the hallway.

"Figures, of course the bloody wanker's too good for our food." Through the still open door he and Draco shared a hate filled glare but to Draco's surprise it went no further as Bill stepped between them and shut the door.

Ten minutes later and Bill was back, clothes slung over one arm and a pile of books in the other.

"Here, these shouldn't fit you too badly, and the bathrooms at the end of the landing" Draco took the books and clothes unsure what to think so settles his features into his shield of haughty derision. He didn't know what to say though so he said nothing.

"Well," said Bill, rubbing the back of his head "Goodnight then."

Draco just nodded, eager to be left alone. When the coast was clear he went down the landing to the bathroom and changed into the pajamas Bill had given him. Back in his room he took a big gulp of his dreamless sleep, _after everything that's happened today, _and then he crawled under the covers and fell asleep.

**I hope this was okay, please let me know what you thought (unless what you thought is "what a pile of crap this story is")**


	3. Chapter 2

Draco had stayed in his room for most of the day now, hoping to avoid meeting anyone, it was then, just his luck that the moment he stepped though the doorway Weasel and Granger came up the stairs, he didn't think he could bring himself to call her 'Mudblood' any more; not after what had happened. She still looked a bit shaky he thought, but nowhere near as bad as she had.

"No," said Ron, red colouring his face, "Don't you dare even look at her,"

"As if I would want to" Draco retorted automatically.

Before he could react Ron's fist came flying towards his face and pain exploded in his nose. He felt it gingerly with his hands, blood was already dripping between his fingers and he knew Ron had broken it.

"Ron, Hermione, downstairs, Draco, go back to your room" said Bill, who had now joined them on the landing. All three obeyed him without question.

Back in his room Draco wondered what would happen now, Bill had warned him to stay out of the Weasel's way but it wasn't really his fault was it? Bill returned with a wet flannel in one hand and his wand in the other. Draco just sat on his bed worrying and trying to stem the flow of blood by pinching the bridge of his nose. He recoiled slightly when he saw the wand, the past year had made him hate being around people with their wands out, even more so now he didn't have his own, you never knew when the attack could be coming and now he couldn't even defend himself.

Bill pointed his wand at Draco's face and Draco fought to keep the fear from showing.

"It wasn't my fault" He whispered, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Episkey"

Draco felt the familiar hot cold sensation and the pain as his bones shifted back in pace.

"Here" Said Bill passing Draco the wet cloth. His nose had stopped bleeding now and he used it to wipe the rest of the blood off of his mouth, chin and fingers, there was some stains on his shirt as well but although he dabbed at it there wasn't really much he could do. Bill muttered a cleaning charm and then they too were gone.

"I'm sorry about my brother's behaviour," said Bill, "But I think you understand that you're not anyone here's favourite person right now."

And then, once again, Draco was alone and more confused than ever.

The next few days passed by quietly, Draco only left his room to go to the bathroom, Bill bought him food three times a day and Draco answered all attempts to start a conversation with monosyllabic answers or pointed silence. Draco was bored though, he had read though at least twice all the books Bill had brought him, even the muggle ones and, although he would never admit it, he had especially enjoyed the book about a ring and a man named Gandalf; who called himself a wizard but, as far as Draco could tell, he knew nothing about magic. From the conversations he had overheard he knew that Thomas, Lovegood and Mr Ollivander had all been moved to someone called Muriel's home, partly because of the smallness of the cottage and mostly because of his presence there. He had started wearing muggle clothes as well, coming to the conclusion that it was better to look like one than to smell like one and he had to confess they were a lot comfier than his robes. He couldn't really enjoy though it as his stomach churned with anxiety every time he thought about what the Dark Lord (or his father) would do if he saw him like this. Draco also had another reason to worry, he had tried to cut down on the amount of dreamless sleep he consumed; make his already meagre store last longer, but he had run out all that was left in the bottle was a few drops and he didn't know what to do. But maybe it would be okay he reasoned, he hadn't seen anything terrible for the last few days, his mark hadn't been burning and no-one had cruciated him recently, even so, tonight at least he could just stay awake couldn't he? That was easier said then done, he didn't dare turn his light on and he didn't know how to cast a wandless Lumos so reading was out of the question, he tried instead pacing quietly up and down but the floorboards squeaked, so he just sat on his bed listing; all the charms he knew, all the ingredients to a polyjuice potion, the dates of all the Goblin wars, but just thinking about History of Magic was a mistake and Draco succumbed to a fitful sleep.

"_You have failed me Draco, just like your father" The Dark Lord's voice was soft, almost a whisper, and he stroked the face of the blonde boy trembling in front of him._

"_Please my lord... I never meant for...never intended...please I'm sorry"_

"_Hmm, yes, I think you will be" The Dark Lord raised his wand "Crucio"_

_Every nerve in Draco's body was on fire and he screamed until his throat burned too._

Someone was shaking him awake and for a moment Draco was back at the manor, he had sprung out of bed before he realised who it was in the room with him. Draco and Bill stood there for a moment just staring at each other than Bill turned out of the room.

"Come with me," he said quietly and Draco didn't really have any choice but to follow. The pain in his throat informed him that he had indeed been screaming, he wondered if Bill was the only person who he'd woken up and if he was in trouble for that also he realised he was only wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt and his dark mark was shamefully exposed, he pressed his arm to his side covering it as best he could but there wasn't really anything he could do. Bill lead them down the stairs and in to the kitchen.

"Sit down" He said, gesturing to the corner with the table and chairs. Draco sat, Bill placed a glass of water in front of him, which Draco drunk gratefully, before he sat down opposite him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Draco just shrugged, tracing patterns with his finger on the wooden table.

"What was it about?"

Draco snorted, "The Dark Lord's been living in my house for nearly a year now, what do you think it was about"

Bill nodded "Talking about it is supposed to help"

"I'm not going to sit here and talk about my _feelings, _I'm not a thirteen year old witch"

"It's your choice Draco, but if you ever need to talk..." Draco just took another sip of water staring at the wall behind Bill.

"Can I go back to my room?"

"Yeah, of course," Bill sighed and rubbed the back of his head. _He probably wanted some kind of emotional heart to heart, where I confessed all my worries, cried for a bit and then became a muggle loving blood traitor._

It was almost morning now so Draco just sat on his bed and waited until the sun came up and he could read until breakfast.

**Thank you for reading, updates will probably be weekly. **


	4. Chapter 3

Bill had brought Draco some new books with his breakfast and, something Draco was relieved by, hadn't mentioned his nightmare. Bill came back again after lunch, too early to have brought dinner.

"Come on Draco, I think you've been holed up in here for too long now, you can help me cook dinner."

Leaving his room worries Draco, he felt safe in his room, but, apart from the quickly fixed nose, no-one had done anything to him yet and if he sat there reading for any longer he thought he'd go mad so, once again, he followed Bill down to the tiny kitchen. Fleur gave him a cold look on his way down but he didn't see anyone else.

"Shepherd's pie tonight, do you want to make a start on the potatoes?"

Draco looked at the large pile of dirty vegetables.

"From Dad's garden," Bill said proudly, "The nutter went back and dug them up after the attack," Draco tried to imagine calling his father a nutter even as a joke but found it impossible.

"Peel them, cut them in half and put them in the saucepan." Bill added.

Draco struggled with himself for a moment, he didn't want to do such a demeaning task but then he also didn't want to go back to his room. Peeling potatoes wasn't as easy as it looked either but Bill didn't seem to mind the bits of peel flying everywhere, he also didn't make any comment when Draco rolled up his sleeves even though his Mark was clearly visible. In fact, Draco was just starting to relax when he heard footsteps enter the kitchen.

"A bit twitchy today Ferret?" Said Ron as he reached past Draco to grab an apple and then sat down at the table. Draco hated that name but even more he hated the fact that what the Weasel said was true, he did flinch more now, being in the same room as lots of people was trying and loud noises did made him jump, _if aunt Bella was __his__ aunt he'd be twitchy too_.

"Ron," said Bill, the warning clear in his voice.

"What?" he asked defensively, "I'm not the one that kept everyone awake last night, _oh please my lord, I'm sorry my lord, let me lick your feet my lord._"

"Shut up Ron, you sound like Dudley,"

_Great_ thought Draco now Potter was in the kitchen too. He couldn't take any more, he pushed past them both and went back to his room.

His room hadn't gotten any less boring and Draco wondered if he should go downstairs again to help with dinner but quickly decided against it. When Bill came up later he didn't have the usual tray of food with him, for a moment Draco wondered if that meant he wasn't going to get anything to eat, was he in trouble? Maybe Bill had found out about how in Malfoy Manor the prisoner's only got one meal a day, or maybe he was still angry about...

"Come and join us downstairs for dinner" Draco was stunned and his brain fumbled for something to say.

"I...I don't have anything to wear," Bill looked puzzled for a moment and then snorted with laughter.

"This isn't that sort of dinner" he said smiling. "Come on"

Draco felt stupid but Bill's laugh was, friendly he supposed, Draco was used to hearing a different kind of laughter, normally as a result of someone else's suffering.

All of the cottage's inhabitants were tightly crammed around the table; even Griphook whose presence in Shell Cottage Draco had almost forgotten. To say it was awkward would be like saying Voldemort was a bit mean. Fleur glanced up from her meal every now and again to give him look that, just in case he had forgotten, reassured him that he was definitely not wanted. He was practically brushing elbows with Potter, who for some unknown reason had been sat next to him and his presence had clearly killed all conversation. Fleur waved her wand causing the dirty dishes to stack in mid-air, she caught them and carried them into the kitchen. Draco, realising this heralded the end of dinner tried to make his escape There was a loud bang at the front door and Draco wasn't the only one who jumped. Bill, Hermione, Ron and Harry all pointed their wands at the door while Griphook silently hid beneath the table. Draco half-heartedly wished that he could join him.

"Who is it?" Bill called.

"It is I, Remus John Lupin!" Called a voice from outside. "I am a were wolf , married to Nymphadora Tonks, and you, the Secret Keeper of Shell Cottage, told me the address and bade me come in an emergency!"

Draco made a beeline for the stairs as Bill wrenched open the front door. He wanted to hear what Lupin had to say though so he didn't go back to his room but sat on the top step.

"It's a boy!" The excitement was clear in Lupin's voice "We've named him Ted, after Dora's father!"

Draco sighed with relief; glad that it wasn't news about his parents. Instantly the atmosphere downstairs turned to one of celebration, even more so when the werewolf named Potter godfather. He listened to the sound of wine being opened and the festive atmosphere Lupin's announcement had created, telling himself that he didn't feel left out but when the Goblin slunk past him with a look of utmost disgust he decided it was probably time for him to go back to his room too.

On the small table next to his bed was a tiny bottle with a note attached, in scruffy writing it said; _Dreamless sleep,_ _just for tonight, we'll talk about it tomorrow. Bill._

A tiny drop on his tongue confirmed that it was dreamless sleep and, as he fell asleep, Draco told himself that the warm feeling in his stomach was just indigestion.

**Apologies for the late chapter, the delay was due to multiple reasons; the difficulty i had writing it, school work and a small incident involving alcohol and nudity.**


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